


The Court of Steel

by dreaming_of_fae



Series: apotelesma [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Computer Programming, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abusive Relationship, Magic, Magic-Users, Manipulation, Mild Language, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25008871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaming_of_fae/pseuds/dreaming_of_fae
Summary: "Cecil stared at the code. The code did not stare back. It had no eyes. It was code. He banged his head on his desk. It wasn’t working, and he couldn’t figure what was wrong! He had double checked every line, made sure every semicolon was in place. He sighed, and deleted the last few lines and typed it back just the way he had it, and started a test run.'Are you fucking kidding me.' "A humble programmer is swept up in the excitement of magic, and his dear friend is left wondering where they went wrong.
Series: apotelesma [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803550
Kudos: 2





	The Court of Steel

Cecil stared at the code. The code did not stare back. It had no eyes. It was code. He banged his head on his desk. It wasn’t working, and he couldn’t figure what was wrong! He had double checked every line, made sure every semicolon was in place. He sighed, and deleted the last few lines and typed it back just the way he had it, and started a test run. 

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

It worked fine. Cecil smacked his head on his desk and groaned in pain. He saved his work, and turned off his computer. He went to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. His roommate, Lark, glanced up from their computer. They were watching some anime, Cecil didn’t really know what it was. It looked rather violent, and- were those nude men?

“Did you finish?” Lark signed at him.

“Yes, finally. It gave me a ton of trouble, I have no idea what was wrong.” Cecil said, grabbing a mug out of the cabinet, turning to see Lark’s response.

“Maybe it just doesn’t like you.” Lark signed with a cheeky smile.

“It’s code, Lark, it doesn’t have feelings.”

Lark shrugged. “You don’t know that.”

Cecil shook his head. Lark was an odd person. Full of odd, slightly off-putting wisdom. They went back to their anime, and Cecil went back to his coffee. Before he could finish making it however, Lark’s head shot up. Cecil looked around, confused.

“Are you okay?” Cecil walked around to where Lark was sitting, trying to see if Lark could see something he couldn’t

  
  
“There’s someone in the apartment, they just triggered the wards.” Lark signed, hands moving quickly. Cecil started. He didn’t know much about wards, his focus was in programming, but he knew Lark had some of the best wards in the city, second only to the Magician. Of course, the Magician was busy… Magicianing… so Lark ended up being the ones people commissioned for their wards most of the time. For someone to have gotten in, they would have to be very powerful. Or, not human.

“I’m going to go find them. Lark, stay here, be ready to bring down the offensive wards.” Cecil whispered. There were two kinds of wards on their apartment. One was defensive, preventing people from ever entering without permission. The other, offensive. If someone somehow got in, Lark could bring it down, and cause some serious harm. They had never tested the second, but Cecil trusted Lark’s talents. 

Lark nodded their agreement. “Be careful.”

Cecil nodded, and grabbed his baseball bat. He crept down the hall, looking into the closet. No one. He moved further, and checked Lark’s room. No one. The bathroom? No one. Cecil reached the end of the hall, and carefully opened the door to his room. 

Standing by his bed, there was a young man. He had curly, dark brown hair, and was quite slim and tall. He was bent over Cecil’s bed and was doing something with his hands. Cecil tiptoed into the room, and held his bat aloft, ready to strike. Just as he was about to do so, the man turned.

“Hello.” The man said, with an unidentifiable accent. “I do hope I’m not intruding?”

Cecil stared at him.

“Do I have something on my face? I thought I cleaned it up, but-”

“What.”

The man paused, and raised his eyebrows. “What what?”

“What. What are you doing, why are you here, how did you get in!” Cecil had built himself up to a shout. He didn’t like yelling, but he did quite a lot of it. It came with his job. 

The man frowned. “Please don’t yell, you’ll disrupt your roommate. They were in the middle of a show.”

“Are you spying on us?” Cecil nearly screeched. He liked his privacy, and the idea of a stranger, even a handsome one stalking him was almost more than he could take.

“Please calm down, I’ve not been spying on you, I just happened to notice when I walked in.”

“Walked in? You teleported in or something!” 

The man laughed. It was a pleasant sound, reminiscent of bells, and Cecil had to remind himself not to get distracted. 

“I didn’t teleport, I walked in through your front door.”

Cecil barked out a laugh. “You really expect me to believe that? And if that were true, how did you avoid the wards until you got into my bedroom. And why are you in my bedroom!” He raised the bat up again, readying himself to strike. 

The man’s eyes widened, and he held up his hands in a placating way. 

“This has been entertaining, but I really need to leave. Farewell!” He waved at Cecil with one hand, and snapped with the other, vanishing into thin air. 

Cecil, hyper-aware of every movement, nearly hit Lark’s head when they entered. Lark, with their eerily good reflexes, grabbed the bat, and tossed it onto Cecil’s bed.

“Oh, sorry Lark.” Cecil said, abashed.

Lark rolled their eyes. “I’m guessing they left? Figures. Court witches are always cowards.” Lark signed dismissively, before turning and leaving the room. 

Cecil sat on his bed. “Court witches? Court of what?” 

He had some research to do. 

* * *

Lark returned to the living room, and closed their computer. They turned,raised their hands, and concentrated. The runes creating the wards shimmered into view, color coded and precise. They methodically went through, double-checking and reinforcing every rune in the room. They frowned. There was no possible way anyone could get through without Lark noticing. 

They thought back to the conversation they had eavesdropped on. “Walked in.” What had the man meant by that? Lark had been across from the door for hours, and though they were invested in their anime, they would’ve noticed a stranger walking in.

They walked over to the door, intent on triple-checking their runes, when they noticed something odd. There was a mouse hole next to the front door. Lark frowned, thinking. There hadn’t been a mousehole yesterday, they were sure of it. So the stranger must be some sort of shapeshifter, working for a Court. 

Lark knew why the Courts would target them, but to be in Cecil’s room was quite odd. Cecil was completely mundane, as far as Lark knew. And considering their wards, they knew quite a bit.

They pulled out their chalk and drew an identifying rune on the hole. Hopefully this way, they would be able to figure out which Court was involved, if not the identity of the witch himself.

They waited a few moments for the rune to do its job. Then another few moments. They sat down, and waited a bit longer. Nothing. Turns out this witch could actually cover his tracks, how surprising. They got up and drew another rune, this one to strengthen the first. Hopefully, Lark’s runic prowess wouldn’t fail them.

15 minutes, and half a dozen new runes later, Lark was at their wits end. No one in the city was as skilled at runes as them, except the Magician of course. But the Magician was a friend of Lark’s, and wouldn’t send a shapeshifting witch to spy on their roommate! Lark frowned. None of this made sense.

They put away their chalk, and cleaned up the runes on the wall. They went into their room, and could hear Cecil typing away at his computer through the wall. Lark rolled their eyes. He wasn’t likely to find out much, the Courts kept a pretty low profile on the internet. Either that, or they couldn’t figure out how computers work. Lark snorted. They grabbed their “gym” bag, and texted Cecil that they were going to go work out. They weren’t, of course, but it was best not to worry Cecil about their well being. 

* * *

Cecil closed his computer. He couldn’t find out much about the Courts in the city, but he did learn about the old courts. The Seelie and Unseelie courts, and their behaviour towards humans was well documented. He wondered to himself about the nature of the man. Whether he was indifferent, but polite to humans, like the Seelie, or cruel, like the Unseelie. 

He dropped himself onto his bed. No use wondering about things he had very little information about, it would just lead to stress. And stress leads to wrinkles, as his dear mother used to say. 

He checked his phone, he had a text from Lark. Cecil frowned, confused. Why would they go to work out this late at night? He shook his head, Lark worked in mysterious ways.

He got up and looked out his window. Cecil loved the view from his room, you could see so many people all going about, yelling, crying, laughing, existing. It made him feel so small, and yet, he too was a person. He existed, and wasn’t that enough?

Cecil rested his head on the windowsill. He was smiling slightly, just taking in the city. He looked out at one of the alleys he could see, and frowned. Someone was tagging the wall with some kind of rite. He watched for a while longer. Whoever they were, they were quite talented. The circle was near perfect from what he could tell, and each movement was confident, each line clean. 

He watched as someone came up in the alley behind them. He wanted to yell, to tell the artist to watch out, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he did, the new person was quick, and soon the pair was brawling. 

Cecil watched in horror as the artist took blow after blow, and sighed in relief when they started fighting back. The artist did something, possibly, a lighter? And the assailant's jacket was on fire. He gasped as the attacker took the jacket off and threw it at the artist. The artist batted it away carelessly, and Cecil could see their hands, covered in spray paint, move quickly, in some kind of somatic spell. The attacker fled down the alley, leaving the artist slumped against the wall, exhausted.

He sat and watched for a while, as the artist stood back up, brushed themself off, and walked away.

Cecil lingered by the window, hoping the artist would come back. They didn’t, but Lark did return from their work out. He left his room to say hi to Lark, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw them.

* * *

Lark stretched as they walked into their apartment. They would have to apply some glamours, but they weren’t worried. Cecil was usually in bed by the time they got home.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Cecil nearly shrieked. “Hell of a work out, huh!”

Lark winced. Seems he wasn’t asleep after all. “Yup, got my ass handed to me in a boxing match.”

“Is that why your hair is singed?” Cecil said, crossing his arms and tapping his foot like an angry dad. Lark frowned, touching their hair. They hadn’t noticed the fire caught them, though they supposed they should’ve expected it. They were never good with the elements, much preferring the more exact methods of magic.

“Were you the person tagging the alley? You could’ve been killed, or arrested!” Cecil looked like he was close to tears, and Lark hated dealing with crying people. They sighed, and patted his arm consolingly.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been doing this for years and I’ve never been caught.” They signed, afterwards realizing their mistake. Cecil looked furious. They leaned away, preparing for the yell. At least he wasn’t crying anymore.

“Years? Years! Why didn’t you tell me! Because I’m a goody-two-shoes, is that it? I can break rules! I just choose not to! You should be more like me! Years? How many? You’re really talented, I saw you, why would you do it illegally? People would pay, they do pay ridiculously well for your work! Why-” Lark placed a hand over his mouth. Their ears were ringing, and that, coupled with their bruises, burn marks, and cuts, meant they were at the end of their rope.

“I’m going to bed.” They signed, before walking past Cecil into their bedroom. They could hear him spluttering, but couldn’t bring themself to care. They gingerly laid down on their bed, took their night meds, and fell asleep.

* * *

Cecil was left standing in the living room, gagging at the spray paint fumes from when Lark put their hand on his face. Years. Years of them lying to Cecil’s face, going out and risking their life, for what? A few glyphs on a wall?

He walked back into his room, and stopped. 

“Hello again!”

Cecil screamed.

* * *

Lark startled awake. Cecil was screaming, and someone was yelling. Lark sighed and stepped into Cecil’s room. They raised their eyebrows at the scene in front of them. Cecil had not stopped screaming yet, and was turning a bit purple. The witch was standing in front of him, waving his arms and shouting. Lark couldn’t understand what he was saying, they thought it might’ve been French. Cecil’s window was open, and his computer on. 

Lark sighed, and walked back into their room.

They came back in, and sprayed Cecil with water. He turned, attempting to karate chop them, but they dodged effortlessly, and sprayed the witch as well. They both shut up, and were now staring at Lark, hair dripping water.

“Might I ask why you shot me?” The witch asked, a tight smile on his face.

Lark set down their spray battle. “Because you were yelling.” They signed, like it was obvious.

“They do this a lot.” Cecil reached for his towel. “And you aren’t asking the questions here, we are.”

The witch frowned. “I’m not quite sure-”

“Excuse me? You’re invading our home,  _ again _ , and now you think you’re in charge? You are as arrogant as the people you serve!” Lark signed angrily. 

“What would you know about the people I serve?” The witch said coldly, every bit of politeness lost. Lark smugly smiled, they knew it was just a front. No Court witch is actually kind, it’s all just a lie. A pretty, polite lie.

“You work for a Court, don’t you? A human witch, a meat shield to take the fall when the other, more important members fall on the wrong side of the law.” Lark signed, moving closer to the witch.

“What would you know of it? The great and powerful wardmaster, never aligned with any faery, so proud and noble. What was that I remember? That you were a member of the Court of Lightning? Did you forget?” He spat out, each word meant to wound. Lark didn’t back down, they gritted their teeth, and raised their hands, ready to attack. Before they could, Cecil interrupted.

“What’s your name? What Court do you work for?”

The witch looked over at Cecil, eyes calculating. No doubt he was figuring out the risk of telling the truth, how much trouble he would be in. 

“I’m Mathys. Witch of the Court of Steel.”

Lark started. The Court of Steel was infamous for not allowing humans to be members of, or even speak to their court. For them to have gotten so desperate as to hire a mostly human witch was, quite honestly, alarming. It meant their numbers were decreasing, and when the members are all mostly immortal, that’s deeply worrying. 

“The Court wishes to speak to you, Cecil.”

“No. No, no, he will not speak to the Court-” Cecil grabbed Lark’s hands.

“What do they want to talk to me about?”

Mathys smiled. “They wish to invite you to join.”

* * *

Cecil stared at Mathys blankly. He had no idea why a court would ever want a human, let alone a Mundane, to join. He looked at Lark, to see what they thought, but they were glaring at Mathys, hands balled up at their sides.

“I… I will speak to them. I will not accept until I know more about what would be expected of me.”

Mathys nodded. “Understandable. I will inform their Ladyship immediately. I do hope you will actually consider the offer. I will come back soon, to take you to the Court.” He nodded again, snapped his fingers, and vanished.

Cecil turned to Lark, who had been angrily signing the entire time. He picked up the tail end of their rant.

“-you slimy, good for nothing, son of a bitch! Cecil isn’t a fucking pansy like you are-” They saw Cecil looking, and their hands stilled. “You can’t actually be considering joining a court.”

Cecil shrugged. “It depends on why they want me there. If it’s something I enjoy doing, I might.”

“You can’t be serious! The Courts-”

“Look, I don’t have to listen to you.” Cecil said, grabbing their hands again. “You lied to me. Since we first met you lied to me. Why should I listen to you? You were in a court, and lied about it, you do graffiti! And guess what, you lied about it. I can’t trust a word you tell me, all you do is lie to me, over and over again. So you know what? If I want to join a court, that’s my business. Not yours!” 

Lark wrested their hands out of his grip, eyes filling with tears.

“I’m trying to protect you, Cecil.” They signed, hands shaking.

“I never asked for your protection! You lied to me, Lark, you didn’t protect me.” He slid his old suitcase out from under his bed and began putting his clothes and smaller electronics in. Lark was signing something at him, but he resolutely ignored them. He grabbed his computer and put it in its case, setting it on top of his suitcase. He pulled it past Lark, who was desperately trying to get his attention, and to the front door. 

Cecil paused, and turned back to Lark, who had followed, still trying to explain.

“Lark, you know how I hate being lied to. At least when I’m surrounded by Fae, I’ll be sure no one’s lying to me.

  
Ignoring Lark’s frantically signed response, he left.

* * *

Lark slumped onto the couch, tears pouring down their cheeks. They sat there, playing the argument over and over again in their head, wondering what they could’ve done differently. They shouldn’t have lied to Cecil, they knew about his ex, how much it had hurt. They should have just told him everything from the start. It was too late to change it now. 

Hours later, when they had run out of tears, they pulled out their bag of spray paint, and left the apartment. 

They walked back to the alley where they had been interrupted earlier, and continued their work. It was a simple rite of protection, special requested by the owner of the quaint cafe inside the building. Lark had agreed to do it, as long as they got free tea for a month. The owner agreed, thankful that the price wasn’t as exorbitant as she’d heard. Lark was quite fond of overcharging the rich, and bartering with people who weren’t as well off. They’d gotten quite a few odd trinkets and charms that way, and didn’t intend on stopping anytime soon.

They wrapped up their work quickly, and were left with nothing to do but think about the argument again. Lark didn’t want to go back to the apartment, filled with silence and stillness, but had nowhere else to go. It was late at night, past midnight, and the only things open were nightclubs, bars, and 24-hour gas stations, and Lark wasn’t desperate enough to go to one of those. 

Sighing, they packed up their supplies, and started to go back to their apartment. As they were walking, however, they heard movement behind them. They turned, expecting a stray animal, but were met with a bright light that disoriented and nauseated them. Lark could barely see as someone came close to them, chanting. They raised their hands, trying to defend themself, but before they could cast a spell, the world went dark.

* * *

Cecil dropped his suitcase on the hotel bed, and angrily wiped away his tears. He didn’t need protection, he wasn’t some damsel in distress. Lark had no right to lie to him like that! He curled up on the bed, and stared at the painting on his wall. He wondered what he did to make Lark think they needed to lie, to make him seem untrustworthy. He shook his head, wiping those thoughts away. He was not the one at fault here, Lark was. But did he have to leave? Maybe he overreacted. And besides, how will the Court find him when he’s not at home? 

Cecil sighed, and stood up. He began setting up his computer, taking comfort in the routine. Once he had it set up, he continued working on the program. It was fairly simple work, just extremely tedious. Simple things often are.

Before he could finish, however, someone knocked at his door. Cecil looked up, hoping against hopes it was Lark, knowing logically it wasn’t. He stood, and looked through the peephole. It was Mathys, wearing a tailored suit in a dark emerald green. He was looking at his phone, idly scrolling, not really paying attention to it. 

Cecil opened the door. Mathys looked up, pocketing his phone. He smiled warmly, but something behind his eyes screamed predator at Cecil.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, offering his arm.

Cecil frowned, looking away.

“I have a question.”

Mathys raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Ask."

“How did you find me? I have no magic, so you couldn’t have tracked me that way, did you follow me? Plant a bug? How?” 

Mathys sighed, smile creeping onto his face.

“You do have magic, Cecil. It is… unique, most definitely, but it is magic.”

Cecil’s mouth dropped open. For several long seconds, he couldn’t say a thing. When his brain finally rebooted, Mathys spoke again.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but we really must be going. Unless… you don’t want to anymore?” He sounded anxious at the idea, frowning slightly. His arm, which had been raised again, drooped down to his side.

“I want to.” Cecil said, taking the proffered arm. Mathys visibly relaxed, shoulders slumping down for a brief moment, before his posture straightened again. They left the hotel, arm in arm, and Mathys led him to a sleek black car, which had a hood ornament with a bizarre symbol on it. It looked like a scythe on its side, with the blade reversed, and two lines intersecting the handle.

Mathys opened the back door, and Cecil stepped in, followed closely by Mathys. He spoke to the driver in French, and they started moving.

* * *

Lark groaned as consciousness hit them. Their back ached, it felt like they were lying on rocks. They struggled to a sitting position and looked around. They were in a small room, with walls made of concrete. The bed they were sitting on had a metal frame, with a thin, lumpy mattress. The door was made of a heavy looking metal. Lark cast out their senses, and was immediately thrown back onto the bed. The wards on this room were powerful, and unlike anything they had ever encountered.

They heard voices from outside, welcoming someone to the court. A court had kidnapped Lark? It was bizarre, especially coming from the faeries, to be so bold as to attack one of the best wardmasters in the city. Unless… they weren’t attacking a wardmaster, and were attacking the friend of a coder.

They rose, and put their ear onto the door. The wards didn’t trigger this time, leading Lark to assume they were activated by magic. They listened carefully, and were able to pick out part of a conversation.

“Not inside yourself, not in a… ah, normal way. You can craft your code to manipulate the external magic, the magic you feel in the air.” The speaker had a low, clear voice, that had an easy confidence and grace to it.

“That’s… That’s not possible. I would have heard about it.” It was Cecil! That meant Lark was in the Court of Steel’s domain. They had likely been brought there as leverage, to make Cecil comply with the Court’s wishes.

“Are you saying that I am lying?” The other person, most likely the Lady of the Court said, ice creeping into their voice.

“No! No, I’m just, confused? A little startled?” Lark could envision Cecil’s hands coming up, his fingers doing their little wiggles. Lark knew that they couldn’t stay here, not while Cecil was genuinely considering joining the Court. It wasn’t safe for him, he would be broken all over again.

They hit the door as hard as they could, over and over again. The wards resisted them, tried to throw them back, but Lark presevered. They threw all their pain, their anger, their love for Cecil at the door, pounding it with their fists, until finally, it shattered.

* * *

A blast of metal shards flew at Cecil and the Lady of Steel. He shouted and raised his arms, but several had already embedded themselves in his skin. The Lady, almost bored, had erected a shield to protect themself. 

“Lark?” Cecil stared in shock at his friend, whose skin was covered in an array of glowing runes. They waved woozily, their nose bleeding. 

“Lark?” The Lady said, contempt oozing from their voice. “The one who lied to you? Who manipulated you carelessly?”

Cecil hesitated, The Lady was correct. But, this was his friend. Who had stuck with him during his break up, helped him get the restraining order, supported him when he started hormones. Cecil realized now that Lark had done their best by him for a long time. And he had been a terrible friend back.

He ran over to Lark’s side, grabbing them as they collapsed. 

“We’re leaving. You better not come after me again.” Cecil carefully lifted Lark, hoisting them over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. 

“Cecil, you have a unique gift. We can help you grow that gift into a true talent.” The Lady spread their arms, a cruel smile on their face. “You just have to join the Court. That’s all, no strings attached."

“I’m sorry, your Ladyship, but I have to help my friend. Don’t talk to me again, and don’t send your cronies after me.” Cecil took Lark, and walked to the door. Before he could leave, Mathys grabbed his arm.

“Please Cecil, think this through. You’re missing out on a huge opportunity if you leave.” Mathys eyes were wide and pleading.

“Mathys, I have to leave, and you should too. You could be so much more than what they're letting you be. They’re using you, don’t you see that?” Cecil pulled his arm out of Mathys’ grasp. He moved in front of Cecil, pulling a long piece of string out of his pocket and making a cat’s cradle. “Let me leave, please. Lark needs help, they’re injured.”

Mathys stared at Cecil, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he stepped to the side, tilting his head toward the door.

Cecil smiled, and carried Lark out the door.

* * *

Lark felt a warmth around them as they woke up. They heard quiet mumbling in their ear, and turned their head to see what it was. Cecil was holding them, dead asleep. They relaxed again, content to lay there until he woke up.

It didn’t take long before Cecil jolted awake. Lark could feel his heart racing behind them, and stroked his arm to help him calm down. 

“Lark? Are- are you okay? Are you feeling alright?” He was shaking, but he hadn’t loosened his grip and Lark couldn’t respond. They could feel his heartbeat accelerate, his breathing coming fast and hard. They pulled themself out of his arms, and sat up.

“I’m fine, Cecil. What happened?” The last thing they could remember was the door shattering. They guessed they blacked out from over-exerting their magic, they had a very limited inherent supply.

“You- you burst out of the door. You had a nosebleed, I thought you- I thought-” He started crying. Lark laid back down next to him, and wrapped him in their arms. They stroked his back, trying to comfort him as best they could.

What felt like hours later, Cecil calmed down. He scooted back, and grabbed tissues off of the night stand. Lark looked around, and realized they were in a hotel room.

“Oh I uh- I left all my stuff here, and when we got here, I was really tired, and the bed looked comfortable so I uh. Went to sleep.” He wasn’t facing Lark, the embarrassment clear in his voice. 

They tapped his shoulder twice, and he turned around. 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to grab me.”

“Are you kidding? I was mad, I’m still mad, but I wasn’t about to let you die! Especially to some- some half rate Court that can’t even be bothered to hide their intentions!” Cecil crossed his arms and pouted. Lark let out a soundless laugh, before realizing the rest of his sentence.

“You never meant to join, did you?” They asked, barely daring to hope.

Cecil sighed. “I didn’t know. I wanted to find out why they wanted me, what made me special to them. When I found out I could use magic, I was tempted to join. If only so they could train me. But then, I do have the city’s best wardmaster as a best friend, and it would be a waste to not take advantage of that.”

“Is that all I am to you? I’m hurt.” They signed, mock serious. They glared at each other for a moment, before breaking out into laughter.

“I meant to tell you about… the court stuff, and the spraypainting, but I just-”

Cecil held up a hand. “Let me be happy, for one day, before you start to apologize. I don’t think I can handle being angry at you right now.”

They smiled at each other, content to exist. They both nodded, and Cecil began packing his stuff, while Lark laid on the bed, resting for a minute before they had to leave. As they were doing so, someone knocked on their hotel door. They shared a look. Cecil walked over to the door, peering through the peephole. 

His eyebrows vanished into his hairline as he turned and signed. “It’s Mathys, he doesn’t look too good.”

“You should let him in.” Lark signed back at him. Cecil sighed, scrunching his nose a bit, before opening the door.

“Hello, my apologies for intruding but, I… I didn’t know where else to go.” Lark stood and peered over Cecil’s shoulder at him. Mathys looked awful, his lip was swollen, he had several cuts on his face, and he had a black eye forming. 

“Mathys, what-”

“I left the Court.” Mathys gestured to his face. “They uh… didn’t take it well.”

Cecil looked back at Lark. They shrugged at him. 

“Come on in. Do you think you can set up wards? Lark drained their magic.”

Mathys smiled slightly as he walked in. “I doubt they would be at Lark’s caliber, but I’ll try my best.”


End file.
